Desperation
by ACoolerUsername
Summary: Harry needs the resurrection stone.


RAVENCLAW, YEAR 6, SHORT. WORD: Begging WC: 709 WORDS.

'Professor _please,_ I have to know!' Harry was on the verge of tears, practically begging Dumbledore by this point.

'Harry, the Deathly Hallows are a myth - from a children's story! I'm sorry but I simply cannot help you and, Harry, I implore you,.. Do not go looking for them.'

Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling defeated, but not convinced. The way the headmaster's eyes had gracefully danced around the room whilst talking about the Deathly Hallows, never meeting Harry's own eyes for more than a second convinced him that there really was something bigger than just 'a children's story.'

He would have to start with Hermione; she was the one who had introduced Harry to the Tale of the Three Brothers, reading the story to him over the phone during the summer in order to soothe him in his pursuit of sleep after the events of the Triwizard Tournament. She was the one who had suggested that he was already in possession of one of the Deathly Hallows, (the invisibility cloak) and she was the only one who would have anything helpful to say at all.

The portrait of the fat lady swung open hastily, revealing the red and gold adorned Gryffindor common room and, as expected, Hermione sitting by the fire, reading of course, whilst Ron competed against some unknown fourth year boy at wizard chess. Harry approach Hermione with a matter of urgency; he needed the stone, and he needed it now.

"Hermione! Just who I've been looking for." Harry knew he would have to go about this cautiously if he were to achieve the desired results.

"Hi Harry, are you okay? You seem a little flat." It appeared that despite his giddy demeanour, Hermione was able to notice Harry's true emotion and, with that, Harry finally erupted into tears.

"Oh, Harry, what's wrong?" She cooed, pulling him into her arms. "Is it Cedric?" She whispered into his ear, knowing Harry's relationship with the older Hufflepuff had been of utmost secrecy.

"Hermione, I need the stone. I have to bring him back," he sobbed, and Hermione immediately knew what he was talking about.

"Harry, we don't even know for sure if it's real." She was whispering still, cautious of the other Gryffindors overhearing. "And, besides, how could we find it? It's one stone on this entire planet."

Whilst Harry knew she was right, he simply could not accept the futility of his search and just give up. He had loved Cedric… He still loved Cedric. He would do anything to bring him back, and if it meant devoting his life to finding the Resurrection Stone, that's what he must do. Or perhaps there was another way.

He sat upright, the tears drying now as another possibility sprung to mind.

"The brother Hermione. He died to truly be with the one he loved"

"Harry, you can't be suggesting that you.. that you kill yourself?" Her facial expression by this point was one of shock, distress and pity and Harry couldn't distinguish which power was winning her over.

"If I can't find the stone, then it's the only way. I love him. I could be with my parents too, Hermione. Without the stone to bring people back from the dead, I suppose my only other option is to join them."

"Harry… we both know Voldemort is returning, and we both know you're the only one who can stop him for good. You have a duty to the rest of the magical world, don't you understand that?" She was begging him to see sense, but Harry was enlightened with his new idea.

"I didn't ask for that… all I ever wanted was him."

"You can be with him one day Harry, but now is not the time. Please, we love you. We need you."

Harry went to sleep that night, conflicted about where his loyalties should lie. Must he go on to fight a war that he never asked to be a part of? Should he try and find the stone, despite the futility of the hunt? Or should he just move on with Death, to finally be surrounded by those who love him unconditionally. The only thing certain for Harry was that he would dream of Cedric again tonight.


End file.
